


Frosted

by Dewsparkle



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Imaginary Friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewsparkle/pseuds/Dewsparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bruce was a boy, he had a friend. Of course, he was only imaginary, but no matter how hard Bruce tried, he could never convince himself of that fact. So, into his teen years his friend stayed with him. But when something goes wrong, Bruce forgets about his friend and continues on with the rest of his life. He never expected to meet the Avengers along the way. Post Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Bruce was a little boy he had one friend, of course, ironically, his friend was only imaginary. Well, at least that's what they had told him. His friend was the embodiment of fun. His friend was cold, but in a comforting way. He was tall, much taller than he was, and a little strange at times, but always managed to make him feel better.

He could have sworn that one time, while his father- Brian, was beating him down, a snowball had smacked the man square in the nose, causing him to stumble back in alarm and dart from the house a moment later. The next day Bruce discovered that (to his secret amusement) it had been broken from the impact of the solid and most definitely not soft ice. That was a good day.

That was also the day Bruce decided that his 'imaginary' friend could most certainly not be imaginary. No matter what everyone told him, he refused to believe it. He was glad that his mother, at least, believed Jack was really there.

Sometimes, it seemed, she would look him straight in the eye while she was apparently humoring young Bruce and asking Jack how he was. Of course, Bruce would relay his reply back to his mother, oblivious to the odd look his friend would give her every time she did so.

The day of Rebecca Banner's murder was a very sad day. Unfortunately, Jack had not been there at the time. It was only the night before when he had told Bruce he had to go take care of something elsewhere and that he would come back the moment he was done. Bruce had nodded in understanding, it wasn't the first time Jack had had to leave for a little while, but he couldn't help but be mad at his friend for not being there to stop Brian.

After all, he was only seven at the time, but who could blame him? His whole world had just shattered and been cast off into oblivion in a single moment.

A few days later, Jack had returned to Bruce while he was crying in his room. The police sirens could be heard just outside the house, as could Brian protests and final threats to his sons' life.

Jack tried everything he could to cheer Bruce up a little bit, but nothing worked. His grief had shook him to the core, and even Jacks 'Time-to-be-happy-and-have-fun-now' snow did nothing more than stop crying fits and lift a little weight off his chest for a great many weeks.

As the months flew by, soon turning into years, Bruce grew more and more distant from people and wouldn't allow anyone to touch him in any way shape or form. As Bruce advanced into high school, Jack was still his only friend and he soon began to realise that there was something different about the white haired boy.

When he was a child, he supposed he was too happy just to have someone to talk to besides his beloved mother. But now, beginning to become one of the smartest people of his generation, he had to wonder _why_.  _Why_ , in all the years Jack had been with him, had he not aged a single day?  _Why_  did the temperature of the room drop several degrees whenever he was near?  _Why_  it was that no one else could see him, when he was obviously there and could interact with physical objects. And more importantly,  _why_  was he here with Bruce in the first place?

All these questions and more raced through his mind that night, when the familiar cool wind touched the back of his neck making him shiver slightly. He let the smallest of smiles creep onto his face as he turned to see Jack's usual grinning face.

Another question that added itself to Bruce's mind was his staff. It was long and wooden, like a Shepard's hook from the seventeen hundreds. Jack carried it everywhere and there would always be what looked like a thin layer of frost swirling up and around the twisted wood.

"Hey Bruce!" Jack greeted, swinging his staff onto his shoulder and began making his way over to where Bruce was seated, bare-footed as always. "How you doing?"

Bruce merely shrugged and turned back to his work. It was his final year and he wanted to make sure he'd covered everything for the exam next Monday and it was currently Saturday. He knew he was quite possibly smarter than all the teachers, but that did nothing to calm his nerves.

He felt the temperature on his left side drop dramatically when Jack leaned over his shoulder to see what he was doing, just enough to be annoying. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Jack squint at the writing disdainfully, before pulling away with a pout or a scowl, he couldn't quite tell.

"What?" Banner asked a moment later, unable to keep his curiosity from getting the best of him. Jack gave a start and looked at him sheepishly.

"Well… uhh… it's nothing, don't worry about it" he said, trying to sound unfazed, waving a hand.

"Jack?" Bruce persisted, removing his glasses as to see his friend clearer.

Jack looked at him mournfully, before sighing in defeat and mumbling something inaudible.

"Sorry what was that?"

He let out another exasperated sigh, setting his staff down and leaning on it. "I can't read…" he mumbled a second time, barely loud enough for Bruce to hear.

Bruce's eyes widened and he felt his mouth fall open slightly in pure shock. "You- you… you can't read?! But how- I always assumed you…" he stuttered, earning a light chuckle from Jack who shook his head.

"Well I can't, never learned how."

"But when I was a kid you-"

"I made it up. I told you the first thing that popped into my head from the pictures and pretended it was what the book said. I didn't think it mattered too much anyway, you enjoyed it all the same before you got your glasses"

Bruce continued to gape. All these years and… "Well, this will not do at all. How are you supposed to get anywhere when you're older if you can't read?" He told him, giving the table a short slap. "Come on then, it's time you learnt to read!" He exclaimed with a determined expression, quickly packing his things away neatly.

"Oh- uh, no, Bruce! You don't have to-!" He said frantically, backing off slightly with his free hand outstretched slightly.

"Nope, I'm teaching you and that's that" With that he grabbed his friend by the arm and dragged him over to a shelf full of books, forgetting his studying for the time being.

Jack smiled triumphantly to himself, it wasn't going exactly as he had planned, but he got Bruce to take a break either way,  _tonight is going to be a long one…_

* * *

 

After many hours, and fifteen different books, Bruce had successfully found a book that Jack found interesting, and one that he could read without too much hassle. It was purely by coincidence that it was one of his mother's favourites.

"The whole… shack? shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring… at the door. Someone… someone was outside, kno- knocking… to come in." Jack read slowly, stuttering slightly as he read on, but never the less, finished reading the third chapter. He sighed with relief and shut the book with a clap. "Thank god that's over"

Bruce smiled, "Well, now you can read. Don't you feel smarter?"

Jack groaned and rubbed his temples, squinting his eyes shut just to be dramatic. "Never again… I swear you broke my brain…"

Bruce gave him a playful slap to Jacks shoulder with the back of his hand, with a smirk. "Don't be such a baby, you should have learned this when you were little" Bruce paused, suddenly realising something. "Jack… did you ever go to school?"

This made Jack look up, with slightly wide eyes, so Bruce quickly explained. "Well, I mean, when I met you, you looked- well you still look- like you're at least seventeen, and I don't know where you go when you're not here with me, but the fact that you couldn't read, it just got me wondering…" He trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Jack sat there for a few minutes, nervously fidgeting his hand around his grip of the staff, with his gaze focussed on the floor.

When he finally answered, he took a deep stuttering breath. "Uhh… well, I guess… I never got the chance to, even if I've been around for a while… it just didn't seem important. I don't know if my…" he trailed off and hugged his knees to his chest.

Bruce's expression became one of concern as he crouched in front of his friend. "Jack… do you… do you have a family?"

Jack hesitantly gave his head a small shake and buried his face in his knees, crossing his feet over each other.

"… A home?" Another no. Bruce sat there staring. He had never before considered that maybe his friend was homeless, he was too caught up in having a friend to think about where Jack went when he left. "How long?"

"As long as I can remember" He replied honestly, looking up at Bruce with sad eyes.

Bruce was silent. Jack had been on his own all his life? But how has he managed to survive all this time? All he had was his hoodie, old and tattered brown pants and his staff. He doesn't even have shoes!

"Where do you go?"

"Around, anywhere really. Don't need a permanent place, I like traveling. I was in Burgess for a while though, closest I got to a home until I met you" He said with a small smile. "I know what you're thinking, Bruce. No." He said firmly.

"But-"

" _No._ " Jack smirked and placed a freezing hand over Bruce's mouth before he could protest again, making him flinch. "I'm fine, Bruce, really. All I need is my staff and my friends, and I'm all good!" He grinned, pulling his hand away when Bruce's expression turned pouty in defeat, only succeeding in making Jack laugh.

"How are you so  _cold_  all the time? I swear it's not normal!" Bruce exclaimed playfully.

"Because I'm a cold hearted son of a birch" He smirked, standing up and leaning on his staff again. Bruce rolled his eyes and set himself back down at his desk, going back to studying.

Jack glanced around the room and his eyes landed on the digital clock sitting on Bruce's bedside table and his eyes widened.

"Bruce! It's like, what is that? A two? Bruce it's like two a.m!"

"It's  _what_?!" He exclaimed, looking towards the clock. "Dammit, I have work tomorrow" he grumbled, but Jack didn't point out the fact that tomorrow was a Sunday and the little shop Bruce worked at wasn't going to be open, in favour of getting Bruce to actually sleep for once. He was too much of a workaholic.

Jack idly sat himself on top of his staff by the window as he watched his friend rush around to sort out his notes into their piles and get ready for bed. Jack snickered at his frantic pace. It was about ten minutes before Bruce had finally gone into his room, shut the door, and completely forgotten Jack was still in his small apartment.

Jack stayed silent for about an hour before he did anything, just to make sure Bruce was asleep before he set to work.

Jack jumped down from his staff and lifted it high, tapping it against the bare wall and willing the intricately designed swirls of frost to form his intended pattern. He smiled as he worked.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce awoke late the next morning, well, it was only eight, but to Bruce that was really late, and idly wondered why his alarm hadn't woken him. He flailed an arm over his bedside table in search of his phone and glasses. He tiredly pushed the corrective lenses up his nose and looked at his phone. Bruce groaned. No wonder his alarm hadn't gone off, it was  _Sunday_. He didn't work on Sundays.

Bruce groaned again and flopped back down on his pillow, letting out a deep sigh. He jumped bolt upright when he saw it. Scrunching his brows in confusion, he pulled off his duvet, instantly regretting it and pulling it back around himself.

 _Why is it so darn cold…?_  He thought as he carefully got out of bed, cringing when his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, making his way over to his wardrobe and pulling out some jeans, his favourite purple button-down shirt, a jumper, and some socks for good measure.

As he reached for the doorknob, he suddenly realised there was a thin layer of frost covering the edges of the door. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the swirling pattern, before remembering that this was not normal and should not be able to happen naturally, let alone inside his  _heated_ apartment.

When he stepped outside his room and turned the corner to where his living slash study room should be, he gasped, frozen in his tracks. Pun intended.

The entire room was covered in frost. As he looked closer, he noticed they made shapes and letters. Gingerly, he stepped closer to the previously bare wall to examine the wording closer, he gaped.

_Happy Birthday, Bruce!_

He'd completely forgotten that it was his birthday.

He looked around the room again and saw that on his coffee table, there was a double layer cake with seventeen candles. Everything was made entirely out of carved ice, with no signs of any melting.

Then to his great amusement, there, in the corner of the room, was Jack. His hood was up, his sleeping face barely visible under the dark blue fabric, staff held loosely in his right hand.

Bruce quietly approached his sleeping friend, noticing that at the tip of his staff there was yet another swirl of frost, but it wasn't part of anything, it was just there, spread on the floor by itself.

He carefully crouched beside Jack and tapped him on the shoulder. Jack jolted awake with a start and quickly looked around, eyes landing on a grinning Bruce.

Jack decided to play dumb. "Morning" He smiled, straitening up a bit and turning to look at him fully. "What's got you in such a good mood huh?"

"Don't play dumb, I know it was you. I have absolutely no idea how on Earth you did it, but I know it was you"

"What was me?" Jack grinned cheekily.

Bruce slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You know what it is. Thank you. I love it" He quickly pulled his friend into a hug, making Jack stiffen, taking a moment to realise what was happening before nervously hugging back, slightly glad when Bruce pulled away.

"So, how'd you do it anyway?" He asked after a minute. Jack looked at him.

"Do what?"

"All this! How'd you do the frost thing?"

Jack made a face. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" he replied simply, pulling his hood down, showing off his snow white hair.

"Try me"

Jack shook his head. "I won't tell you how, but I'll show you what I did it with"

Bruce looked as if he were about to protest, but decided against it in favour of getting one of his questions answered, even though it would more than likely just create more, so he nodded and looked at Jack expectantly.

"Alrighty then" Jack affirmed, stepping out into the centre of the room. With one last glance at Bruce, he gripped his staff in both hands and tapped it against one of the few unfrosted walls. There was a spark of white where the tip of the staff made contact with the wall before frost quickly swirled over the surface.

Jack looked back over at his friend and smirked at his expression. It was obvious he was in shock and was trying in vain to figure out how the stick had done it.

"You know, Bruce, you look really silly with that look" Jack stated casually, once again leaning on his staff.

Bruce blinked and his eyes refocused and rested their gaze back onto the white haired boy, occasionally flicking down to look at his staff.

"How did you- That's not- You'd need so much time and resources to build a machine that small to- No, even then it wouldn't do that! I-" He rambled, before sighing deeply, falling backwards onto the couch behind him, a hand rubbing his forehead.

Jack smiled and shook his head, crouching himself on the edge of the coffee table, so he was almost touching Bruce's knees.

Placing a cool hand on his leg to get his friends attention, he spoke. "Don't think about it that way, Bruce, you'll hurt yourself" He smirked. "Think about it from a different perspective. It's not scientific, and I suppose you could say it's not natural or normal. So, what's the only solution left?"

Bruce groaned, shrugging. "Super-human abilities…?"

"No, Bruce. No scientific or natural occurrences or whatever. What is the only other way strange things can happen?" Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but Jack quickly cut him off. "And no, it's not alien"

"But there is no other explanation! I mean, it's not as if you magically made frost or something out of that Shepard's hook!-" Bruce stopped dead in his rant when he saw that cheeky grin on his friends face. "No.  _No_! Magic is  _not_  real! It can't be!"

"Bruce." Jack said sternly. "It is. It doesn't exist the way you see in story books, that's just fantasy. Right now, we're talking about Natural Magic. It's not as fantastical as it's made out to be. It's simple. But I can't tell you anymore"

"But- but… You've just told me magic is real and you can't tell me anymore?! Why?"

"Because you'll stop believing"

"Believing in what? Magic? I haven't believed in magic since I was a kid" Bruce said sternly with a frown. A second later, he jumped back, wide eyed. "What the-"

Jacks eyes widened in fear. "What? Bruce, what is it?!"

"You- you just…" He trailed off, obviously questioning his sanity. Jack pieced it together.

"Disappeared?" He finished sadly, looking downcast, stepping off the coffee table, letting his staff drag along the floor behind him. "I really hoped it wouldn't happen…"

"What? Why did you disappear?" Bruce asked, getting up and walking over to his friend, peering around him to see his face.

"Because you stopped believing." He repeated. "In me…" he added the last part quietly, Bruce was lucky he heard it.

"What do you mean? Of course I believe in you?"

Jack shook his head. "No, not in the way you're thinking of. You doubted that I was actually here. You stop believing that I'm here, so you stopped seeing me"

Jack turned his head to look at Bruce. It looked as if he were close to tears.

"I should've know it wouldn't've lasted… After all, no-one's ever believed in me until you did…"

"Jack, I don't understand"

Jack sighed and stared Bruce in the eye before speaking again, his hesitance to speak was obvious. "I'm cursed, Bruce. At least it feels that way. You asked me why I never went to school, if I had a family. The truth is, I don't know. The first thing I remember is standing on the ice of a pond in Burgess with my staff. I don't have a family, Bruce. I don't have a home. All I ever had was you, you were my only real friend."

Bruce didn't say anything. He tried to think of something to say, but, what can you say to something like that?

"Jack… who are you really?"

"Jack Frost. The Spirit of Winter, at your service" He gave a grand, mock bow, but his sadness was still evident, even though he smiled at his act.

"The Spirit of Winter…?" Bruce repeated hesitantly, frowning slightly and wringing his hands together in one of his nervous habits.

"You don't believe me do you?" Jack said sadly, bowing his head low.

"Well, I… um…" Bruce stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Jack glanced up, just in time to see his friend flinch, looking around wide eyed for a few seconds, and his eyes finally resting back on Jack.

Jack looked back up at his friend, making sure to smile reassuringly. He placed a hand on his best friends shoulder, already feeling himself beginning to vanish from Bruce's beliefs.

"It's okay Bruce. I knew that one day this would happen, and it's alright. We had lots of fun together, yeah?" He paused, blinking tears from his eyes. "You're a wonderful person, Bruce, don't ever let anyone make you believe otherwise. You're one of the smartest people this world will ever see, I know it, and you'll do great things in your life. Just… just keep being…  _you_ , alright? For me?"

"Jack, I don't want you to-" He began, only to be shushed quickly by the white haired boy he'd spent his life with.

"Thank you for everything, Bruce. It's not your fault, you're just too smart and you're convincing yourself that I'm just… that imaginary friend that never left." Jack smiled tearfully, feeling the small wet droplets glide down his cheek for the first time he could remember. With one final goodbye, the white haired boy wrapped his arms around his friend and held him in a tight embrace, and he held on until he felt himself phase through the curly haired brunette.

Jack stepped back and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper, watching mournfully as Bruce looked around the room for his friend, wringing his hands together and biting his cheek as he did.

It was easy to tell that the young man was fighting to try and convince himself that he'd just kept his imaginary friend for all those years, never having once questioned the 'whys' that had circled through his head, justifying ignoring them because the friend was, in fact, imaginary and he subconsciously didn't want it to be true.

Bruce sighed, dropping his hands and giving the room one last glance, shutting himself back inside his bedroom.


End file.
